The Secret Life of the Heartbroken Teenager
by MarchLovesApril
Summary: During New Moon--a new Saga. Jacob and Bella spend some time together...and something surprising comes of it. New decisions, new situations. Teens will be teens, but sometimes it runs deeper than that.
1. The Rabbit

The Secret Life of the Heartbroken Teenager

"_She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom"—Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter_

I woke up screaming. I could feel my throat—it felt raw as though I'd just spent the last few hours shouting. I quickly glanced towards the door. Charlie slept like a rock, it was true. Nothing short of a bulldozer could have awoken him, and for that, I was lucky. I caught my breath, holding my stomach as a wave of nausea swept over me, threatening to send me to the bathroom. The rain tapped on my window and I shivered, glancing over at my alarm clock. The red numbers glowed, reading 4:17 am. My heartbeat slowed, but only a little. It was still racing as the image of his beautiful, flawless face singed its mark in my heart, sending me face-first into my pillow, gasping for air through the cotton and tears. And even through the endless pattering and thunder I could hear myself silently choking on his name. _Edward._

"Found this upstairs—thought you might want it at one time or another," Charlie nudged an old book towards me, barely looking up from his oatmeal. I glanced at the fraying cover; it read _Scarlet Letter_.

"Dad—what—" I managed to say before he shrugged and cut in.

"Look, Bells—I just figured reading something might take your mind off of this—" he paused and stared sadly at the salt-shaker before clearing his throat, "—I just want you to try finding your way around this."

Charlie's eyes wrinkled around the edges showing his age and I suddenly felt my heart plunge as his mouth gave a threatening twitch. He was about to cry.

"Dad," my words trailed off and I couldn't find them again. They were lost somewhere in the guilt that was beginning to ache somewhere deep inside.

"I just want you to be happy, Bells," his hands balled into fists and I could tell he was struggling to restrain himself from breaking down right here in front of me. I was already broken enough—I couldn't watch Charlie start to crack too.

"I'm getting better, Dad. I really am—" shaky though the words were, I had to mean it. For Charlie. I reached for the _Scarlett Letter_, "And you know me well. I love these old classics." I forced a smile and patted his shoulder before grabbing my backpack and swearing to myself that I could only break down in the comfort of my room from now on.

I got home earlier than I had planned. Jessica had asked for help in Calculus but that had only lasted an hour and I was home by four. Home with the sound of the Seahawks game, a fridge full of leftovers and an empty backpack. The worst kind of day.

Frantically I searched for something to keep me distracted until I would have to face the hole in my chest again. I could not...no, _would _not allow myself to think of him until I was sure I had done all I could do for the day. With that last thought painfully lingering I grabbed for the remote and clicked through the channels forgetting to notice that the phone had just rung.

"Hey—uh, this is Jacob. Black.—" There was a pause on the answering machine, "Jacob Black, I mean. Wait I just said that. Okay uh, well, I was just—"

Whipping around I threw the remote on the couch (ignoring the fact that it had bounced off and nearly broken the lamp), heading straight for the phone, clicking "Answer".

"Jake!" my voice picked up at the end and the sound of my excitement nearly knocked the wind out of me.

"Bells,--hey," his voice had the same, comforting, rough and anxious quality it used to. The sound of it made my mouth turn slightly upwards into a grin, "I uh, I was just calling to see how you were. I mean. How you _are_...as in, how you've been doing lately—er--" he paused again, clearing his throat, "What I'm trying to say is, how are you?"

I closed my eyes briefly to smile at the way he tripped over his words. Typical Jacob since I'd met him; always too much to say and never enough time to say it. Almost as if he were afraid of time running out before he could say enough.

"I'm..." the words stopped cold in my throat. How _was_ I? That was debatable. The C—_they _had left three months ago. They had left a hole where I could feel my happiness leaking slowly away. But then there was Jacob Black. He had enough happiness to start to make me glow again.

"Bella?" he whispered quietly. I turned my eyes towards the window and at the sun which had begun to crack through the clouds making the puddles on the road glint in a pretty way.

"I'm doing alright," my voice was steady and this too, surprised me. "In fact, I've really missed you."

-3 Months Later-March-

It was hard not to go to bed smiling, or without at least thinking of all the ways I would smile the next day. I reached blindly for my book-light and under my pillow for the _Scarlet Letter _that I had harbored there under my own curiosity. The cover was torn through the "H" on "The" and as far as I could tell the book was at least a few decades old seeing as on the title page there was a _"To You, my dear. If you ever have a scarlet letter, wear it openly and let them cry for you—but never hide it and cry tears in due to shame. xoxo Peter—Christmas 1973."_ I turned to the introduction and couldn't help but wonder where on earth Charlie had ever had the motivation to buy this for himself; or buy it at all for that matter. My father was not the type to pour over a Victorian novel, much less anything aside from the sports section of the newspaper. Nevertheless I opened to the introduction and read briefly.

Hester Prynne, a beautiful rose in a dead garden. An independent woman came about by unfortunate circumstances. _She had wandered, without rule or guidance, into a moral wilderness. Her intellect and heart had their home, as it were, in desert places, where she roamed as freely as the wild Indian in his woods. The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared not tread. Shame, Despair, Solitude! These had been her teachers - stern and wild ones - and they had made her strong, but taught her much amiss..._Scarlet letter? _What is that_, I thought, skimming over the next paragraph until my arms fell asleep.

My eyelids began to droop and I heard the book slowly slide off my lap and onto the pile of jeans on the floor next to the bed. I was more tired than I had realized.

_Bella...you're not good for me. This is the last time you'll ever see me..._

And again, I woke up in my nightmare.

"You've got that face again," Jacob raised his eyebrow as he glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. We were hand-in-hand on the rocky beach by our favorite tree and the wind was beginning to sway the branches above us. A seagull squawked noisily.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I exclaimed defensively, biting my lip to keep composure. It was probably true, though. I tended to look how I felt after a night full of the occasional nightmares that had been recently resurfacing. And Jacob could tell.

"Bella," he turned to face me and I could see in his dark eyes the concern that had been building in the last few months. Guiltily I feared that it would spill out from underneath his thick, jet-black lashes and cause me to fall apart right then and there.

My breathing had slowed to the pace of the waves washing against the sandy shore and my hand grew cold even under the heat of his palm. Somewhere I could feel my heart lurching as Jacob sighed and brushed a stray strand of my hair from my forehead and brought his lips together slightly. Only my eyes felt the edge of the wind as the tears blurred my vision, threatening to drip down my cheeks and onto my chin.

"Yes?" I breathed as I tried to keep the tears from spilling over. Jacob took my small, fragile hand in his and squeezed it slightly.

"It's because of him, isn't it?" he paused to bend down and kiss my hand, gently brushing his lips to it before looking up at me again, "I can tell."

My hand burned where he had kissed it and I realized that just this once Jacob hadn't taken my hand because he wanted to pretend that this was something more than it was. He had done it because he didn't know what else to do; what else would make me better. And I didn't either. For that slight moment I wanted to take his hand and kiss it, just to tell him that I had changed my mind and I wanted the same things he wanted. But I knew what that would mean. It would mean letting _him_ go. Betraying my heart to save another; though one I could say was definitely more deserving than I.

I swallowed the urge to bury my face in his green windbreaker and soak it through until there was nothing left to cry and instead nodded solemnly, biting my lip. His eyes closed for a moment before he looked back at me.

"Do you want to go back? It's getting stormy."

I nodded numbly as he tugged me next to his side and brought his arm around my shoulder, nearly causing both of us to trip on the rocky shore.

"Sorry 'bout that," a slight smile played about on his full lips as he squeezed my shoulder and muttered, _crap_ under his breath.

Charlie had wholly approved of my friendship with Jacob, especially seeing the way it had slowly been wiping the pained expressions off my face. And really, it was nice having a friend who I could feel carefree and happy around without having to pretend.

"Billy said it was alright if you stay," Jacob grinned, maybe a little too enthusiastically, reaching for a root beer out of the cooler in his tiny living room.

"What's with the cooler, anyway?" I nodded in its direction, signaling him to throw me a Sprite. He took a long drink out of his soda before wiping his mouth.

"My dad's idea. He's been getting lazy these days, complaining about having to wheel himself to the fridge."

I laughed. "Oh," I took a drink from my Sprite, ignoring how it burned my throat.

"So what do you want to do?" Jacob asked, leaning his head back on the little couch, glancing over at me. I sighed, kicking my socks off to feel the familiar brown carpet underneath my feet. It tickled.

"Anything you want—as long as you're not planning to rob any stores," I grinned, thinking with amusement about the fact that as long as I was with Jacob, I might even consider that doable.

"Oh, that sucks, 'cause I was hatching a plan to ransack Joe's and get you a cart-full of Ho-Ho's," he winked, laughing in spite of himself. I couldn't help but giggle.

"What about the Rabbit? Are you done with that, yet?" I managed to say through my giddy laughter. He shook his head briefly.

"Not yet," his voice had a tone of excitement to it, "But al_most_. I just need to put a few finishing touches on the engine and fix a crack in the dashboard," his smile grew wider, "then she's _mine_!"

I couldn't help but smile at his excitement and the way his eyes shone and his large hands danced as if he were reenacting each procedure. I glanced towards the garage door which was slightly open. He followed my gaze.

"Why, you want to watch me work on it?" he raised his eyebrows in surprise. I had already told him time and time again that it was my favorite way to spend time with him, but I knew he hardly believed that I got any fun from watching his hands assemble car parts. But it really was the truth.

"I'd love to, Jake." I immediately grabbed my sneakers and pulled them over my bare feet, reaching for the laces and tying them into a nice knot. He rolled his eyes in obvious disbelief, but took my hand nonetheless and pulled me down the few stairs and into the garage.

"So what's that?" I asked, watching intently as his huge hands turn over a piece of metal that looked like a handle to something. He glanced up at me, brushing a stray strand of his charcoal hair that hadn't been tied up out of his face.

"Uh, this—well this is the crankshaft." he bit his lip, sliding another piece of heavy metal onto it. I raised my eyebrow as his face became focused on the project, "And this," he motioned toward the other piece of metal, "is the sump. It helps with oil levels and all that good stuff."

I nodded without really understanding; not that it mattered. I didn't much care about a crankshaft or anything else related to cars. I just wanted to see Jacob happy because it made me happy. And when he kneeled here, working, it gave me satisfaction to know that he was doing something he enjoyed (besides listening to me gripe) and could give all his heart to.

Certainly there couldn't be a better way to spend my Sunday night (we had school off, Monday) than to watch Jacob's hands make something he could feel proud of. It gave me a shard of hope that he might have a life outside of taking care of me.

"Bells, you _have_ to be bored," he groaned after awhile, placing the metal carefully under the hood and into its place. I smiled, walking over next to him, placing my hands on the side, peering down into the metal maze. He sighed.

"Seriously, Jake, you have no idea how much I am enjoying myself." I paused as he raised his eyebrow, "_Really_," I assured him. He nodded.

"Okay, but swear you'll tell me if you want to go hang out and watch TV or something—or hey, I can order pizza. Billy left me a twenty earlier. Told me to spend it on something useful," he wiped a wrench off with a blackened cloth, "and pizza's useful, isn't it?"

I felt my stomach growl, "You keep working—I'll order it. What kind do you like?"

He picked up another unidentifiable tool and wiped it off before slamming the hood shut and thinking a minute, "I'm all for whatever you want. Food's food in my world," he grinned, patting his stomach.

"How about a little of everything? Charlie and I always order it. We call it 'everything pizza'," I laughed, "I bet even _you_ couldn't get through two slices of it."

Jacob grinned, "We'll see about that," he winked, reluctantly setting back to work on the engine, probably still unconvinced that I was having any fun. Before heading up the stairs I turned around.

"Do you want anything more to drink while I'm inside?" I asked. He motioned to a small paper bag on the floor next to an old lawnmower.

"There's a couple of Sunkist's in there. I grabbed them earlier, unless you want something else?"

I shook my head, "No, Sunkist sounds great," and headed happily into the Black's miniature kitchen that had dishes piled up in the sink and a bunch of sticky notes on the fridge, including notes to Jacob to remember to "put cooler in living room for Dad". I smiled, reaching for the small cord-phone. Sadly I didn't need a phone book. I'd memorized the number for Pacific Pizza.

"Third slice—" Jacob swallowed, rubbing his stomach, groaning slightly. I snapped my fingers in defeat.

"Darn, I guess that means you win the bet," I shook my head in sarcastic defeat. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh yeah, we have a winner, " he threw his hands up in the air, "Jacob Black takes the gold for downing three slices of extra-stuffed-everything-who-knows-what-the-crap-was-in-it pizza." I giggled, "But dang was it _good_." he rubbed his stomach again.

"Told you. Charlie never fails to be amazed with it." I laughed in spite of my simple father, and Jacob joined me. We laughed together like this, sitting side by side on the cold cement floor of his garage, sipping the last of our Sunkist's. Our arms touched slightly and I shivered with the happiness at his warmth. He leaned his head against the front of the Rabbit and groaned again.

"What is it?" I asked, watching his face droop with obvious shame. He glanced down at me.

"I just remembered I need to fix that crack on the dashboard..." his hair was starting to fall out of the hair-tie he'd put it up in earlier, into a shiny black mess.

"Go ahead—I'm full, anyway," I urged him, "My stomach's about to explode and nothing sounds better than sitting and relaxing."

His beautiful black hair was starting to fall across his shoulders, framing his lovely, russet-colored skin.

"If you say so," he shook his head incredulously, standing up and stretching before re-tying his hair and yanking open the driver's-side door. Around his middle he had on a belt full of bizarre-looking tools that I was too exhausted to try and identify. Lazily I made my way to the passenger's side, sliding into the vacant seat and leaning my head against the door as I watched him with awe.

His hands moved swiftly to and from the belt as he leaned over the slightly-cracked dashboard, long metal tool in his mouth, occasionally glancing over at me to catch my eye. I could tell that even though he doubted I was truly enjoying myself, he appreciated the company. After all, being alone too long could make you think. I would know. And Jacob Black had a lot to think about. His best friend was broken into a million pieces and he was constantly trying to assemble them only to return one day to find a horrible dream had shattered me again. I shivered as he smoothed out the crack tenderly, rubbing a black glue-looking substance over it. When would he stop trying? _Would_ he stop trying? A person can only have so much patience until they start to crack, too.

I glanced at his intent gaze, determined to fix his car. The one thing he could fix that wouldn't break—at least not immediately. He reached for another tool in his belt.

But this was Jacob Black—my best friend, and a boy who, for all intensive purposes, loved me. I could see it there in every line of his hand and in every sigh of breath. He was someone I could always trust. And if this flame; if Jacob Black ever went out on me, then anyone would. I knew he would last far beyond what I could ever imagine myself capable of.

My heart suddenly wrenched and twisted with an uncomfortable realization, and my breath stopped short, causing me to physically clasp my chest. Jacob turned, noticing.

"You alright, Bells?" his voice sounded wary as he set down the black paint and tucked the last stray tool into his belt. I forced myself to swallow the scream I felt coming up.

I had thought Jacob would never leave me, this was true. But hadn't I thought that of someone _else_? Someone who I had thought to be too good for me, but who I had hoped by some small amount of luck, would stay by my side any way? I had hoped. But he had left. And if he did, maybe Jacob would have the sense to leave me, too.

"Bella?" he repeated more slowly and with more concern. I was frozen in my seat, my eyes focused on the windshield. He glanced over his shoulder and back at me again. I could hear the thunder off in the distance and the sound of pattering rain on the gravel outside.

What if, in the end, Charlie was the only one who would stand by me? I had already..._lost_—I cringed at the thought—someone I could have never imagined life without. And what would be any different if Jacob decided he'd had enough of me? _He wouldn't do that_, I reassured myself, but that didn't stop the tears from welling up again like earlier today. Only this time, I wasn't thinking of just one boy; I was thinking of two.

"Bella—what's wrong," Jacob repeated, untying his tool-belt, throwing it to the ground. The sun was almost set, leaving a faint purple-pink glow in the distance from the Black's open garage, the car parked inside. I felt my stomach roll. He closed his door, pulling himself into a sitting position on the seat, his hand pressed to my forehead. But I wasn't physically sick.

"Jacob..." I whispered as my eyes burned. I sure teared up easily these days. I was so broken that the thought of even the slightest crack to my conscience sent me into hysteria.

"Bells, I'm here, honey," he mumbled, giving me a knowing look as he brought my face delicately to the crook of his neck, letting my cheek rest on the shoulder of his brown t-shirt. He knew that I was going to cry. He knew that, even though he had tried his hardest to make this a pleasant night, I was falling apart again. Even with the sun itself right next to me.

"I—I'm s-sorry, Jake," I choked on his name as it made my heart ache. In a different way than _his_ name had. I clutched at his t-shirt as I struggled to, just this once, keep my tears from falling in front of him. _You promised not to break down_ I silently scolded myself, biting my lip until it started to bleed. I could feel his hot breath in my hair and I shivered.

"It's not your fault, Bella," he whispered into my hair, "He's stupid to have left you."

I gasped, closing my eyes to keep from crying. "I—I should've k-known he would f-find someone b-better," I stuttered, tripping over my words. Jacob pulled me closer to him, his voice wavering like mine. I could tell he was upset.

"Bella—you didn't do _anything_ wrong, you understand that?" he buried his lips in my hair, making me shiver again. I felt the tears starting to well again.

"H-he's too g-good for m—" I started, but Jacob quickly pulled himself away from me, almost angrily. He placed his huge, warm hands on either side of my face and I could see the concern in his deep-set eyes. A concern that was starting to smolder. He brought his face only inches from mine.

"Bella—as much as I _hate_ him, I just don't _get _it. If anyone's more upset and confused right now it's _me._ I can't even begin to understand why _anyone _would ever leave you!" his breath tingled my lips, and I could feel the tears about to spill over, "And if he can't see that...then I don't know why you think he deserves you."

I closed my eyes now. Jacob was looking at me, I could tell. I was afraid that if I opened my eyes again the tears would come flooding out.

"Bella." he whispered after a moment, taking my hand in his. He sounded tired but he brought my hand to his lips, his breath steady and calm.

"Jacob—" I muttered in surprise as I felt his lips graze each of my fingers, kissing them delicately.

"This," he whispered, kissing my thumb, "is for every promise that I will break to you," he kissed each of my fingers for a slight moment before bringing his face to mine, touching a finger under my chin as he leaned towards me. I opened my eyes as the tears started to fall.

"And this," he paused for a moment, leaning his lips to my cheek, pressing them to the spot where each tear fell, and then to each eyelid, "is for the one promise I know I'll keep."

It was silent for a moment, and I could feel the burning where he kissed my cheeks. The tears dried up from his heat.

"I know what he did to you," he whispered taking each of my hands in his to kiss them again. _Jacob Black_ I wanted to scold—but yet I didn't. Couldn't. It felt too nice. "And Bella, I won't _ever_ hurt you."

His hands burned mine, but the heat wasn't overwhelming this time. It was vital. He parted his lips and I knew he meant these words. He meant them more than even _he_ realized. Because we needed each other.

He leaned in towards me, and suddenly touched his large hand to my chest, closing his eyes. His hand was over my heart. His breathing was deep, thoughtful as he brought my hand to his heart, resting it there. I looked up at him.

"Bella," he breathed, closing his eyes, bringing my face to his chest, "You have no idea how much he missed out on."

I inhaled the scent of motor-oil and pine from his T-shirt and felt my shaking starting to subside. Jacob Black was my best friend; he was _my_ Jacob.

It was dark now; completely dark. The only light was the kerosene lamp in the garage, dimly illuminating the inside of the car. How long had we been out here? Hours at the least. And yet I couldn't remember never being here with him; never being completely broken. Only a little, but it was getting better.

I pulled my face away from his chest, reaching up to untie his hair, letting it fall like a raven-black curtain across his shoulders. He was truly beautiful; not in the ways that _he_ was. But in an imperfect, rugged way, Jacob Black was beautiful. I brushed a stray strand of hair away from his face and as he leaned his head down I tilted mine up slightly so that our mouths met along the way, touching together in a perfect fit_._ I smiled into the kiss—I could taste Sunkist and the essence of motor oil on his full lips and I could hear him trying to catch his breath as my mouth moved with his in a rushed way; as if to make up for all the times we never had done this before.

It seemed like forever since our mouths hadn't parted. I couldn't taste anything but him—every wonderful flavor that made my best friend, and now my...well, what was he? It didn't matter. I just wanted to keep tasting it until I ran out of breath.

And I could see the steam on the windows, lightly fogging our view, but my mind was rocking back and forth with every new emotion that kept arising within me. My heart was racing yet it was calm; my breath was his breath, our lips melted together in the heat and I could hear a slight sound of satisfaction in the back of his throat.

What was more I barely acknowledged his hands on the soft part of my stomach, touching it lightly and tenderly as our mouths touched again and again, then the moment where my head went fuzzy and his bare chest was hot under my fingertips.

"_Bella,_" he whispered into my lips pressing his mouth to mine ever harder and more anxiously than before. I didn't want to not taste him. I was in too deep.

"Jake," I mumbled on his mouth, closing my eyes as I felt his hands fumble with my button-down shirt. He paused slightly and gazed down at me and I was surprised to see that he was the same Jacob Black I had been best friends with just hours ago...his eyes were gentle; perhaps a little hungrier than I had seen them; but he still harbored concern and love deep within. I could tell. What would tomorrow bring? It didn't matter. And I could only think that perhaps Jacob Black was like the rain, here. He'd always be there no matter what the circumstance.

"I love you," he murmured and my mind went fuzzy again, and I could only feel the fabric of his car under my back and Jacob's beautiful hair tickling my face and the kisses that kept my lips tingling.

"I—" I was cut off as he kissed my cheek and down to my lips, "I love you, too, Jake." my voice was weak but he heard me. He sighed as if I had just told him he had finally won the lottery after several times of trying.

"I know," he kissed me again, his huge, muscled arms on either side of my head, resting on the seat as he leaned his body down, sending shivers up my spine and stopping my breath in my throat.

And so I closed my eyes and let it happen. I let Jacob take care of me in the way he'd always wanted; watched his face touched with a new kind of concentration; a new kind of love not unrequited, touching his cheeks so they turned a slight pink. And his eyes as he felt my hands on his muscles—his breathing becoming shallow, and then very, very heavy. I let the pain slip away. Jacob Black was no longer just my best friend. He was something I could not and _would_ not live without. And now, he was a part of me. There was no space between us.


	2. Flame

The sun shone through the windshield, forcing my eyelids open. The first thing I noticed; it was _hot_. The whole car felt like an oven, and I felt slightly feverish and winded.

Jacob's arm rested next to me, his hand out-reached and his lips slightly parted as he snored lightly. I caught my breath at the warmth of the seat where the sun-spots warmed the fabric.

What time was it? I searched for some way to tell the time but there wasn't one, so I could only guess that it was maybe late morning.

Quietly I opened the door of the Rabbit and stepped out, stretching my legs which had been cramping, and I felt a sudden wave of nausea come over me as I felt soreness down below. It burned and ached at the same time, pin-pricking my entire body as I forced myself to walk into the house to find some Ibuprofen for my headache. As I entered the tiny kitchen I could hear Billy's snoring in the next room and could only think about what had truly happened last night. I closed my eyes.

"_You are beautiful, Bella," he had whispered as the moonlight shone on his face, and I could see the awe in his eyes as he looked at my body and sighed. I blinked back at him from underneath my damp eyelashes and smiled self-consciously._

_With a swift motion he had brushed the hair from my forehead and kissed it while his warmth began to fill me—a fiery burning which had begun to send strange aches and sensations through my body._

I shook my head, now, reaching for a glass of water and swallowing the Ibuprofen.

"_Jacob," I had felt the words come up, leaving me breathless and dizzy, and I could see that his cheeks were slightly pink and his breath was heavy._

_My body ached and burned with a feeling...one that I could see he was feeling too. He closed his eyes every few minutes and I could hear him struggle to breathe when the aches were the most unbearable. And I touched my hands to his flushed cheeks, struggling to find the words for the way my heart was throbbing out of my chest._

"Bella," I heard the familiar husky voice and I turned quickly around, wincing again at the soreness. Jacob stood in the kitchen doorway, his brown t-shirt and jeans on, and his beautiful hair in disarray. For a moment he looked like a child again; a beautiful, wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked boy who had been playing in the woods and catching frogs. But when I looked closer, I saw a man...His jaw with careful lines, his eyes with a hungry love; his lips which spoke comforting words, and his muscled body, made obvious even under his t-shirt. A man capable of immense love.

"Hey, Jake," my voice was shaky as he looked back at me, hands shoved in his pockets. What could I say to him now? We had spoken beyond the terms of words, and everything I could think of saying to him seemed to fall short of what he deserved. He smiled and walked over to me slowly, clearing his throat.

"It's sunny out," he raised an eyebrow. I nodded, leaning against the counter, "So how are you feeling?" he quickly blurted. I swallowed.

"I feel just fine," I smiled. He looked down at his feet for a moment, his cheeks reddening.

"I mean—are you—is it—" he paused, raising both eyebrows. I felt the soreness again, but not as bad as at first this morning. I felt my cheeks redden, too.

"I couldn't be better," I paused for a moment, "_Really. _I mean that."

Jacob smiled, but as Billy gave a loud snore his expression quickly became mortified.

"Do you want to take a walk?" he asked, looking over in the direction of the living room, where Billy was hopefully fast asleep. I nodded eagerly, clutching my stomach as the nausea swept over me again. I still felt sort of feverish.

We spent the first few minutes walking in silence, only listening to the crashing of the waves. Jacob was finally the first to speak.

"Bells...about what happened," he started, taking a deep breath. I braced myself, too. "I don't want things to be all awkward. You know, messed up. Just because of that."

Silence again before he cleared his throat.

"In fact, maybe this could just..." he paused to look at me, "...bring us closer." he grabbed my hand. "Bella I don't want you to hurt anymore...I just want you to belong to me...and have a piece of me that _no one_ else can have. The piece I'd only give you. The piece I gave to you last night—and would never regret."

His hand wrapped around mine and he entwined his fingers with mine, too. I shivered but found myself wishing it were colder out—what was with the sun in Forks, anyway?

"Jake..." I mumbled, trying to find the words that were slipping away, "I...you're my best friend..." the words 'best' and 'friend' seemed to deflate when I tried to use them in Jacob's case, now. I remembered the way he made me ache and yet smile at the same time...sending waves of pleasure through my toes up to my throat where his name spilled out of my mouth—and he would kiss me until I couldn't mutter it any more.

"I know how to love you, best, Bella," he brought his lips to my cheek, and I could feel myself about to melt.

"You have enough love for everyone." I whispered, ignoring the soreness and headache as I gazed up at him and felt suddenly, in comparison, undeserving of anything great he could give me. Let alone his heart.

"But I choose you," his breath smelled sweet on my lips and I choked on the words of rejection I was about to give him—realizing that this time, I could not bring myself to say them because they were meaningless now. They were worth less than sand—they were a lie. I didn't want to tell Jacob Black no anymore. I couldn't if I wanted to be happy.


	3. One Month Later

1 Month Later

"He's not here right now," Billy's coarse voice grunted over the phone. I bit my lip, trying not to scream obscenities.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" I said slowly, running my hand through my tangled hair. Billy sighed.

"No, but I'll tell him to call you." he slammed down the phone and I fought the tears. Jacob had been sick for a week and now he had made the decision I had been fearing.

He realized he was better than I was and that I could never, ever deserve the love he gave me.

But Jacob Black had bad timing.

I trudged upstairs, trying to keep myself from throwing up. My stomach whirred and my head tilted with nausea, sending me to the bathroom.

"Bella, you okay?" Charlie shouted from the living room, over the sound of the game. I wiped my mouth and tried to find my voice.

"Just...food poisoning, I think,"

Charlie grunted, muting the TV. "You want me to make you some chicken soup? I could microwave a can of Campbell's."

I groaned. "Dad...you can't microwave cans...and...no thanks—I don't think that would help."

I clutched my stomach again, my eyes swimming with tears. The hole in my chest was threatened by a new puncture—this time, of my own doing. I had treated Jacob as a friend; rejected him. And then let him have me, anyway. And now he knew he didn't want what I had to give, not that I could blame him. He had gotten sick of me after I had finally decided I didn't want to be just friends. I was a mess he was tired of cleaning up.

I flushed the toilet and headed back to my dimly lit room, searching for a pair of socks to cover my feet. My whole body ached—my back felt like there was a ton of bricks on it—and my stomach did flip flops. A sudden thought nearly stopped my heart.

What if Jacob _knew_? What if that's why he had been avoiding me? But it didn't make much sense—no, I hadn't told anyone. I had thrown the box away and its contents were in a plastic bag under my bed, carefully wrapped and concealed. Something I had to hide to keep myself together.

I lay my head down on my pillow and stared out my window at the wind as it played with the trees. My stomach still rolled but I forced myself to ignore it and try and fall asleep. I tried desperately not to think of the thin pink line on the screen. But it wasn't something I could hide from.

I woke up with a mission. Today, I was going to La Push. I didn't care if Jacob had decided Sam was more worth it than I was—this was something that was just as much his problem as mine and the longer I put it off, the harder it would be.

"Where are you going?" Charlie looked up from the morning paper as I tied my sneakers and grabbed my red jacket. I cleared my throat.

"La Push."

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "I thought you and Jacob weren't on speaking terms,". I shrugged and grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter before yanking the door open.

"I'll see you later."

The trees whirred past the windows and started to thin out; a clear sign I was nearly La Push. My stomach felt funny—not in the usual way. But I could feel myself starting to regret ever driving here. I pulled into the dirt driveway and up to the front of the tiny, red house. The Rabbit was parked outside.

A movement by the window caught my eye—I could see Billy glaring at me as he let the curtain drop across the window again. What was with all the anger and secrets, around here? Why couldn't people just tell each other the truth and _then_ act like jerks? Why did they have to make assumptions?

"Hi, Billy," I waved as he rolled out onto the sagging porch.

"Jacob's with Sam," Billy's rough voice stated bluntly before he wheeled himself back through the doorway.

I heard what I thought was a shout off in the thick woods behind the house and turned in the direction. In moments I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder. I whipped around.

"Bella," Jacob said fiercely, and my eyes widened at his appearance. He must have been at least three to four inches taller—not to mention heavier with muscle. And his hair—his beautiful hair—was cropped short and looked darker than before. He looked much, much older. I gasped.

"Jacob—what—" I squeaked and felt my stomach roll again. He didn't look sick by any means. He looked angry.

"What are you doing here?" he grabbed my arm and I winced. I could tell he felt bad but his eyes still burned into mine. What chance did I have but to tell him, now? I considered running back to my truck and slamming on the gas, just so I wouldn't have to prepare myself for his rejection. But I knew he would find out eventually.

My eyes met his and I couldn't help but wonder if this was even the same boy I had watched in the garage, or the same boy I had succumb to. The physical changes I could handle, but the venom in his voice was nearly more than I could take right now.

"I need to talk to you," the feeling in my stomach returned, but I tried to ignore it again. He turned slightly and that's when I noticed the four other boys behind him, nearly identical.

"Then talk to me," he spat. I swallowed the bile.

"Alone, I meant. Can we walk?" my voice was shaky. He turned to the other boys and then back to me.

"10 minutes, Bella."

We walked in silence, only our breathing making a sound. Jacob finally stopped in his tracks.

"I have to go back," he muttered, the muscles in his chest flexing as he turned. Quickly I grabbed his arm.

"You can't, Jacob. Not yet." my voice sounded stronger. He glared at me, yanking his arm from under my weak grip and turning to walk in the opposite direction.

"Duty calls, Bella."

I glared in his direction.

"You can't walk away Jacob—you're duty's right _here_!" I grabbed his arm again, this time harder. He pulled away and began to walk angrily away again. I snapped.

"You will _not_ walk away from me, Jacob Black!" I yelled, and this, I could tell, surprised him. For a moment he glanced back, then turned his body to face me.

"Oh yeah, and why not?" his voice was menacing, enticing.

I braced myself, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes before opening them again to look at him.

"Because I'm pregnant."


	4. Ambiguous Love

Jacob stared back at me with an expression that quickly melted from hostility to disbelief. Every trace of his previous determination was gone—disappeared as the words came together into one truth.

"That's—you don't..." his eyes dropped to my stomach which was covered well by my brown sweatshirt, "—you don't look..."

His words trailed off before he could finish the sentence. I sighed, closing my eyes.

"That's because it's only been a month. Usually takes a few more weeks."

He shook his head, his eyes wandering out into thick forest. "But—I—we—"

I knew he was referring to the contents of his glove-box—an investment that, for whatever reason, hadn't worked. We were like the victims of a sick, twisted turn of fate—a rare malfunction that, with my luck, was bound to fall upon us.

"I know," I whispered, clutching my hand to my stomach as a sharp pain hit my side. Jacob was frozen—his eyes wide and his muscles clenched. Somewhere a howling noise sounded from the trees, momentarily jerking hi m back into consciousness as he turned his head toward the sound.

"No," he muttered, the breath catching in his throat. Little droplets of rain sprinkled my forehead as they fell through the leaves of the forest above us. Had it been raining? Well it was Forks—_stupid question_, I scolded myself. A pained look came over Jacob's face, distorting any trace of his likeability—making him appear sinister, again, as the rain dripped from his jet-black hair.

"Jacob..." I said, but his name fell flat as I clutched my side again. He turned away from me, gazing off into the woods again.

"_No_," his voice was angrier as his breathing started becoming panicked.

"Jacob—what" I gasped, but he turned back to face me and I could see his horrified expression.

"Bella—I—you have to find a way to stop this," he stumbled on his words, eyes boring into mine, "—I—we can't—I—"

He stopped speaking to breathe, eyes darting over my face and body, "What have I done..." his words scolded himself, and he shook his head.

"Jacob, it's not only _your _fault. You forget it takes two to—"

"Bella, I have to go," he kept shaking his head. The rain soaked us both, but I noted that Jacob didn't even shiver.

"Don't be silly, Jacob. You can't—"

"This—I can't—I have to leave. Sam will be—I'm sorry..." he gasped, turning to leave. I stared at the spot he had been before, slowly following after. Sam—Sam Uley? What did _he_ have to do with any of this? I remembered Jacob's fear of what Sam had been doing to the rest of the boys that had seemingly morphed into monsters—conformists. And now here he was—Jacob Black—trailing after Sam even after I had told him. I had really thought that this would change his mind. But I was wrong. Again.

* * *

I barely remembered driving back, let alone getting into my rusty truck and turning the key. I must have been intoxicated with my own anger and disbelief. Either that or I had just woken up from a bad, bad dream.

The moon was nearly full; hiding behind the tall trees that towered outside my window. I lay in bed but sleep wasn't coming to me tonight. Just like the night _he_ had left—the burning feeling returned to my face and lungs, on top of the new pains I had been recently feeling. The whole thing had me writhing in agony—both physical and emotional. I was broken; and further breaking.

I nearly jumped as a sharp tap came at my window, rattling the pane.

I bolted upright, clutching my purple comforter as I stared towards the window.

"Bella! Open the—crap, ouch—damn window!" Jacob's voice struggled from outside. I gasped, throwing the covers off and bolting towards the window, staring out at him. He had, in some unfathomable way, managed to climb nearly 15 feet up the old tree and was now balancing dangerously on the edge of a knotted tree-limb.

"Jacob! What—" I stuttered, shivering at the cold air coming through the thin glass.

"The window, Bella!" He yelled, and I quickly yanked the lock so it slid up, sending a gush of icy air into my face.

"Step back—" he ordered, and I gasped.

"Jake—"

"Watch out!" he yelled, and I nearly tripped over my own two feet as he counted, and jumped from the branch towards my window. I ducked my head, muffling a scream, knowing there was no way he could land it. At least, without seriously hurting himself.

"You can stop that, now," his husky voice snickered from above me. I looked up, realizing that he was standing..._unhurt_, above me.

"Jake—how—" I choked, before growing angry at his stunt, "You could have _killed_ yourself! What were you think—"

"Bella I don't have much time—I'll explain everything if you just calm down." Jacob placed his hands on my shoulders. He sighed, helping me up from my pathetic position on the floor and setting me on my bed. I felt my cheeks flush. I could hear him sigh heavily as he scooted next to me and rested his head in his large hands.

"This—this wasn't supposed to _happen_," he whispered, the pain evident in his words. I cringed at the throb in my side.

"I know."

Jacob twisted his body to face me and I couldn't help but note his lack of complete clothing. What was with him these days?

"No, Bella...I mean this _really _wasn't supposed to happen. Especially not to us."

A feeling came over me. Jacob was taking this a lot harder than I had imagined—regretting it almost more than I had.

"We'll get through this, Jake," I sighed, feeling my cheeks burning as I remembered what had happened earlier today. His awful reaction; the mockery on his face—but I tried to push it to the back of my mind. "We were careful. We did everything we could...it just happened. We were just unlucky."

I heard him take a deep breath before muttering something barely audible under his breath. It was silent for a moment before he finally spoke.

"Bella," he said slowly, turning to look me in the eye. I swallowed.

"Yes?"

He bit his lip, "I need to tell you something."

I waited.

"I'm not supposed to...but I think given the circumstances...you should know."

My heart raced. I knew what this was. He had finally found someone else, just like Ed—_he_ had. This was going to be the pathetic break-up scene, except I wasn't the long-time girlfriend. I was the pregnant best-friend who had repeatedly denied him any love until a few weeks ago. But after the first break up, I was ready for anything. I just didn't want to believe it was happening.

"I'm—I'm tied into something. It's deeper than anything I can explain...I just—I"

I knew it was coming...I had to repeatedly swallow to keep down the bile.

"I'm not what you think I am, Bella. I'm not..." he paused as if bracing himself," I'm not human."

The breath caught in my throat. What was he saying? Was he being literal? Not _human?_ Was this a joke?

"Wh--?" I whispered, and he held out his hand, palm up.

"Touch my hand, Bella."

I stared at him in utter confusion before finally placing my small, white hand in his. I gasped.

His hands felt like fire. They burned mine momentarily before I felt a wave of heat surge through my arm and into my chest—then a resonating comfort filled my body, making me shiver.

"Tell me you've ever felt anything like this," he touched his fingers to my cheeks, leaving warm tingly spots all over me. I guiltily recalled one time I had come close to this feeling, then quickly shook it off.

"What—how?" I muttered, struggling to speak in my amazement.

"Werewolf," he whispered.

I froze. He noticed this and sighed, bracing himself for another explanation.

"I was wrong. The legends weren't _legends_. They were true. And that's what Sam is, too. We all are," he paused, turning towards me, "It's something we're born with—but the change doesn't start until right about now. Well, it takes a few months."

I struggled to comprehend. I could only think of questions.

"Is the heat--?"

"Yeah, that's a part of it. It starts inward then we gradually get warmer." he sighed again.

I gasped.

"Inward...as in...?"

"As in, I think I know why this—", he gestured towards my stomach, "—this happened."

I felt sick again. "Jake..." I whispered.

"Bella, I'm almost eleven degrees warmer than the average person. Those—erm—protective—uh, devices...they aren't made to stand that kind of heat."

I realized what he was saying. He was right. Condoms were highly ineffective once exposed to high temperature, let alone 108.9 degrees of—well, body fluid. They would surely become useless at that point.

"So if you're a werewolf...and I'm..."

"I know," he muttered, glancing back at my stomach, though relatively flat it was. We sat in silence, listening to the rain and wind outside.

"I'm sorry, Bells," Jacob turned toward me, his voice shaky and his eyes watering. The pain in his face was almost too much for me to bear, especially at this hour.

"Jake..." my hands fumbled for his in the darkness and upon finding them I sighed heavily, entwining my fingers with his, running my thumb over his soft skin. He looked like a little boy, again; his lip jutting out slightly, and the tears on his eyelashes like little diamonds. I noticed, just then, that I could not find a single fault within his features. He wasn't perfect in the way that—that _he_ had been, but then again, no one was. No; Jacob was perfect in a way that was achievable yet exotic and equally rare. And now he was finally breaking.

"I'm—I'm only sixteen, Bells," he stumbled over his words as a tear rolled down his flushed cheek, "And I'm going to b-be a...a father,"

He shook, trying to keep himself under control; but I could see through his façade. He was just a boy-no matter how physically strong. And he was in shock. I didn't know what to do; what I _could_ do. Jacob was falling apart in front of me and I was the strongest this time.

I glanced back at his face, yearning to absorb his pain—or at least as much of it as I could. My head spun.

Gingerly I wrapped my arms around his bare chest and lay my head down softly on his shoulder, inhaling his pine scent. He calmed a little, his breath touching my hair in a way that made me sigh. I leaned my face up and pressed my lips to his, kissing him softly as he shuddered, moving my mouth slowly and in unison with his so that I could taste his tears, and breathe in some portion of his pain.

"Bella—" he murmured into my lips as another tear fell from his lashes. I shushed him with my kisses, placing my hands on his chest to warm them. It was the only thing I could do to keep him from verbally abusing himself—forcing the guilt down upon his own shoulders. My mind wandered as he held my shoulders in his huge hands, so gently, yet so secure; as if keeping me together; structured and steady as his lips melted to mine.

My heart hurt in a dull, distant way—as though a sting from an old paper cut. But I realized it could not parallel the bubbly, singing feeling that surged through my veins each time Jacob's breath touched my tongue.

So perfect.

"Bella—" he murmured again, panting. Momentarily, I pulled my mouth from his to breathe.

"Yes?"

He raised his eyebrows, his chest rising to take a deep breath as he turned, leaning on his arm, "You—uh, you don't have to do that to be nice. I mean, just 'cause of," his deep-set eyes trailed down to my stomach, "—you know."

I felt the color rush to my cheeks.

"Jake—that's not—" I gasped, but he looked at the floor and I could hear his breathing slow. For a moment I wanted to slap him—_show _him that I was serious—but I forced myself to handle it like I knew I should.

"C'mon, Bells. It's _me_—_Jacob_. You've never wanted this." his voice quivered, losing its naturally strong tone. What was with the breakdowns, tonight? Why, when I was finally becoming happy, did everyone else have to hurt? I contemplated what he had said—it was true. Even less than a year ago I would have never wanted this. Never admitted it, at least; and certainly never acted on it. But here I was. And I wanted this now.

"Jacob," I started, trying to keep calm. I knew it was obvious that I wasn't, but I was going to try for his sake, anyway.

It was silent awhile before he spoke.

"What."

"We..." my voice shook, and I could hear the wind rattling my window, again. My eyes flew to the door which was tightly shut. I had almost forgotten about Charlie, "—if this was about trying to keep our relationship together because of—of _this_," I motioned to my stomach, "Then—then why would I have—why would—I'm—"

I could feel the tears coming up—a sob threatening to puncture a new hole in my heart. After this...after _all_ of this, I had hoped I would get better at controlling myself.

"I don't know, Bella. You felt sorry for me?" his husky voice floated in the darkness. Anger enveloped me as I turned towards him and felt the urge to slap him return—only this time I didn't ignore it. I let my instinct take over.

"_Ow_!—What was _that_ for!?" Jacob rubbed his cheek, his eyes wide and dark. I caught his eye in the darkness and sighed.

"I'm trying, Jacob. I want this to work out—I _finally_ am starting to see what you see," my heart ached for a slight moment as his hand kept rubbing his cheek, as if showing all the pain I had caused him. "And here you are, pushing me away."

At that moment I could hear his breath hitch—halted by my words. Something became so innocent—so tangible, about his face. Though I had to agree he was no longer "little Jacob Black", there was something child-like lingering in his black eyes, accompanied by a hunger that only men could know. And his beautiful, full lips that molded so perfectly to mine were suddenly inexperienced. Yet kissed me perfectly.

"It's just hard to believe, Bells. After everything." he lay back on my bed, back to my purple comforter, shutting his eyes.

And it _was _hard to believe. Even for me. And I hadn't been the one put through the numerous rejections, though slight they were.

"But you have to believe me, Jacob. Please." I was begging now, and it felt pathetic. But I was tired and I was sick of the ambiguity of our relationship and how it continued even after we had become as close as humanly possible. We still didn't know what we were.

"I just don't want to get hurt," he whispered, his giant hands tracing the pattern on my blanket—and I watched his fingers with a resignation.

"Good," I smiled, leaning over him as I whispered, "Because you won't."

His cheeks burned a rose pink under his russet skin as my hands found their way to his chest and I crawled on top of him, bending down to kiss his soft lips.

"Mmmmbb," he mumbled as I pressed my mouth into his, tracing my fingers over his cheeks. I pulled away.

"Hm?"

"I said I love you, Bells," he whispered, huskily. My heart leapt in an unfamiliar way.

"I love you too, Jake." I bent down to kiss him again, his bare chest hot under my legs. He shivered but brought me closer into a deep, blood-boiling kiss that made me dizzy—the whole room spun. I could taste every bit of him. Like a fruit fresh off the tree—newly cut grass—SunKist—mint—a little essence of motor oil, though not unpleasant—and a taste of tears that were beginning to dry. This was Jacob, and this was my favorite flavor. He pressed his lips to mine softly before bringing them to my ear, tickling it with his warm breath.

"You always have. You just never knew."


	5. Brothers

I lay awake, listening to the rain hit my window like a million little bullets. My face still stung but I realized I had fantasized about Bella slapping me _many_ times. Just not under this circumstance. At least, not exactly. It didn't matter, though. I was happy. Genuinely happy.

Except for one thing.

It was all wrong. Bella and I were supposed to be together—I knew this. We were supposed to love each other. Grow up together. I was supposed to kiss her like the sun kisses rain. Long and deep, breathlessly.

But she wasn't supposed to be pregnant. Not for a long, long time. Not now. Not when we had so much going for us. We were only teenagers! I was only sixteen, for God's sake! I had playboy magazines under my mattress—I had barely even gotten my license! I had fantasies that no one wanted to hear—I always failed my math tests. Hell, I was barely passing English. I liked when things blew up. I liked danger. I wanted sex. All the time, in fact. And junk food. I wanted that, too.

I was just a normal teenage boy. Okay, so I happened to morph into a giant wolf sometimes. But really, I was normal. Just a boy who liked a girl.

My mind wandered to the night in the Rabbit. A memory I'd been visiting over and over since the moment it happened. Bella, below me, all flushed and sweaty, her perfect body. Creamy skin—an indescribable taste. An indescribable sensation. I felt myself becoming aroused. A burning sensation just below my stomach, causing me to take a deep breath. Just thinking of it made me want to--

"Jacob, can I talk to you?" my dad sat in the doorway, nearly scaring the crap out of me. I bolted upright, switching my tiny green lamp on so I could see.

"Jeez, dad—next time you wheel yourself in here would you mind knocking?" I muttered angrily. He sighed heavily.

"Jacob, I need to talk to you." his voice was very quiet, very low. I squinted. It was almost two in the morning.

"Dad, it's kind of—"

"Jake, this is serious." his voice was somber and rough; he grimaced as he wheeled himself a few more feet into my tiny, pig-sty of a room. I was surprised he could make it in.

"What is it?" I asked, cautious not to get all the way out of bed—I could feel it. Last thing I needed was my dad seeing my arousal.

A few quiet seconds passed before he sighed again, like the world was on his shoulders. Something was wrong.

"You've been acting different, Jacob. And I know it's not because of your transformation." his eyes bore into mine. My heart kicked up a notch.

"Dad, I'm just the same. Don't know what you're—"

"Is she pregnant, Jacob?" he asked, and I could feel my face turn red. A deep, deep red.

"What?" I managed to choke out, swallowing my shock. A line creased between Billy's eyebrows, his mouth tightening.

"Bella," he stared at me from across the room, "Did you get her pregnant?"

A careful silence followed. No—an uncomfortable silence. The air felt too thick—too stuffy. I could feel a lump forming in my throat, blocking my words.

"Jacob." his voice was full of worry. Of accusation.

"I—no," I managed before my face began to burn. I felt nauseous. Billy's eyes became weary.

"Sam told me everything, Jake. No need to deny it."

My face burned again—only this time I felt my stomach drop.

_Sam?_

I had forgotten. They could hear everything I thought.

Every memory. Every detail.

"He—what?" my voice shook with anger, probably giving me away. I twisted the blue comforter in my hand.

"He said he saw something," Billy grumbled, taking off his hat, "You and Bella. He's concerned about you, Jake."

I let this sink in, considered this. What had Sam seen, exactly? My private life?

"It's none of Sam's business," my lip trembled stupidly. God, I was giving myself away. Completely away.

Billy knew it, too.

"If Bella's pregnant," my father's eyes grew dark and serious. More serious than I had ever seen them, "Then you need to tell me. Right now."

_No, she's not pregnant!_ I wanted to scream—wanted to chuck something; _anything_ at my window just to hear the glass shatter; break the silence. _I'm just a boy, Dad. Your youngest son._ I could hear it—the truth that should have been. Not what was evident now. Not the real truth.

I could feel the sweat gathering on my forehead—another giveaway. Why hadn't I learned to lie? At least, believably? Oh, right, because I was an idiot. I had too many emotions for a guy. Too many facial expressions that distorted any mask I could have tried to cover it up. The pain, that is. All the pain. And now this.

"Jacob,"

I lifted my eyes to gaze at my dad. Silently I cursed the fact that I had had to chop my hair off—nothing to hide under this time. But I figured he'd find out soon enough. She'd get bigger—I took a deep breath—there would have to be some kind of mandatory check-up system at the doctor's office, or something. Those things they use to see the baby. And of course, there was Bella. She wouldn't try and hide it after awhile. She was an honest, truthful person, unlike me.

"Yeah," I swallowed, trying to keep down tonight's dinner. My stomach twisted. "Yeah, she is."

A moment passed before Billy made any sound, made any movement, even.

"Charlie doesn't know," his voice was ancient; weary, "Does he."

I woke up with a feeling in my stomach that made me want to throw up. My dad knew—he knew the _truth._ And Charlie was bound to find out soon. And Charlie Swan had legalized gun use. Not that it'd kill me—it'd just really, really suck.

But it was Sam I was worried about today. The anger shook my body.

Unsurprisingly the clouds masked the sun, casting shadows over the beach outside, making the waves look a sinister, dark grey. My favorite kind of weather. I grabbed my sweats that were conveniently hanging over my night table and pulled them on. My shower could wait—I was prepared to get dirty, anyway.

The pack would be waiting for me by Sam's truck, as they usually did. Kind of convenient to know the person you want to kill will be waiting for you. I scrapped the shoes and set off running into the woods towards Sam's place.

"Hey Jacob—over here," Embry's voice called out over the trees. Guess they weren't by the truck today. Normally I would have taken this opportunity to pretend I didn't hear and take a few minutes off to get my breakfast, but today was different; I had business to settle.

"Look who finally showed up. Nice sweats, too." Embry joked, pointing at the hole in the crotch. I ignored him.

"Where's Sam," my voice sounded harsh. I couldn't help but wonder if I was giving away my anger. Embry's eyebrows pulled together, looking confused.

"Chill, Jake—he went to get the bloodsucker's scent. Said he'd be back in a couple minutes," he surveyed my increasingly angering expression and snorted, "Who peed in your Cheerios this morning, anyway?"

I gave him my best glare.

"Cut it out."

"Wait," he turned towards me with an amused expression, raising both eyebrows suggestively, "Is this about the whole Bella thing?"

I felt my heart kick up a notch and cursed under my breath.

"No," I choked, crossing my arms. But it was already too late. I could feel my face burning—my breath coming out in short, huffy sounds. Embry's eyes widened and a huge, dumb grin spread across his face as he nudged my arm with his elbow, making a whistling sound.

"I _so_ knew it!" his voice cracked and I groaned. Why did everyone have to know everything about my life? "Oh, Jake—right there, Jake" he mimicked her high, breathy voice and wrapped his arms around himself, mimicking an intense makeout session.

"Shut _up_!" I smacked his arm, but he only grinned.

"How much'd ya pay her?" he rubbed his hands together. If I hadn't been planning on killing Sam already, I might've taken Embry out, too. Hell, maybe all of them.

"Look—it's not funny, alright?" I could feel frustration about to boil over, and I had to clench my fists in tight balls to keep from shaking and phasing right there. Not that it really would've mattered.

"Yeah it—"

"Jacob, Embry," Sam's deep voice came from behind me. I whipped around, my fists still clenched. He stood there in the clearing with Paul, a calm look on his face that pissed me off even more. I nodded once, then stepped towards him.

"Why did you tell my dad," I spat. Sam's face didn't change, and I wanted to kill him right then and there.

"You wouldn't have if I hadn't, first," his voice was smooth and relaxed. I snapped.

"You don't know a _damn_ thing about me!" I shoved him against a tree, wanting him to fight back. But he looked me in the eye.

"Let go of me, Jacob." I could feel his Alpha command burning into my brain, pulling me away, but I refused as best I could.

"You—you had no business!" I shook him, my hands digging into his shoulders. Still he exhibited the same coolness.

"My pack is my business." his words were low but firm. I took a deep breath.

"You _stay_ the hell out of my personal life!" I choked on my words, and Sam's expression softened. Why couldn't he just punch me? I'd be a lot more satisfied, at least.

"We're here to help, Jacob. Now let me go."

I shuddered, dropping my hands as I locked eyes with him. I had to admit I wouldn't have won, anyway, if there'd been a fight. But I had been hoping. Until now. I could see the images of Bella's pink cheeks in my mind—the way she whispered my name with a sweetness that I could taste on her lips, and a softness that I could feel on her skin. And then I saw another image.

Bella was round with a baby. _My baby_. Then I was cradling the bundle in my living room, looking down at its face with its thick tufts of jetty hair. I held my stomach. I could feel Embry and Paul staring at me from behind; surely they had no idea of the depth of the situation. But Sam spoke.

"You tell them when you're ready," he motioned to the other two. I nodded and swallowed slowly. Paul snorted.

"Tell us what?" he punched my arm, though I barely felt it, "About how you sweated all over Bella in your car and—"

"Enough, Paul," Sam ordered, his eyes dark. I took a deep breath and glanced over at Embry whose eyebrows were furrowed again.

"We're your brothers, Jacob," Embry had lost all hint of joking. "You can tell us anything."

_Nothing to see here,_ I wanted to whisper, _Sam was just kidding._ But I knew I couldn't.

"Not everything."

My voice shook unbearably. I turned away from them and began running—as fast as I could—towards the beach. I didn't even know why.

"Jacob—wait—" I could hear Embry's voice in the distance but Sam had told him to let me go. I could barely hear Paul making some joke about how emotional I was before I felt the sand under my feet and collapsed, pounding my fist on a rock, breaking it in two. The wind whipped the trees but I barely felt it. I needed to find Bella—needed her to sit with me, whisper anything to me. But I couldn't force myself to move.


	6. Weird Doesn't Even Begin To Describe It

I lost count of how long I had been lying on the beach, my bare chest in the rocky sand. My face lay on my hand and I let the wind whip at me—I barely felt it, even. The seagulls hopped along the shore looking for food but there wouldn't be anyone at the beach. Not on a day like today.

My stomach growled but I ignored it, which wasn't normal for me. Usually I'd be up, running towards the house to finish off a bag of Doritos or microwave something easy—a couple frozen pizzas. But I swallowed my hunger and instead pushed myself into a sitting position, leaning wearily against the weather-beaten log behind me. I looked up and saw the huge, ominous clouds floating overhead. The wind had kicked up a notch and the waves out on the ocean were getting choppy. A storm was guaranteed.

As I gazed out at the water and watch the waves lap at the sand I couldn't help but think about Bella; how we'd always walked here. It had been effortless. We'd held hands and discussed things. Even the serious things, we could handle. But even the difficult things had been easier than the things we faced now.

I was going to be a _father._ A _dad_. There was something growing inside of Bella—and it was all because of _me._

I wanted Bella to love me. I wanted her to know that I was the one who could pick up her broken pieces and put them back where they belonged—kiss away her pain, make her forget about the bloodsucker. But I didn't want her to do it just because she was pregnant. It would hurt too badly when she woke up one day and decided she was tired of trying to pretend that she wanted me. Even worse than it used to when I'd go to bed imagining how she thought of _him_. How perfect he must've looked compared to me—but knowing, as I lay there, that he was unhealthy for her. Was sucking her in. No—it'd hurt much, much worse. I had a part of her now that I'd always dreamed of having—imagined having. A part of her that felt right...fulfilled me. But would ruin me if she left. Completely ruin me.

"Since when do you mope?"

I looked up. Leah Clearwater was standing behind me, a smirk on her face that twisted her features. If there was anyone I was less happy to see, I couldn't think of who it was.

"I'm not moping," I scowled, glaring at her, "And for the record it's none of your business."

"I know moping when I see it," she sat down beside me, and for a moment I thought she might be insane. Either that or highly medicated, "Besides, I thought only girls did that. The wimpy girls."

Why was she _here_? She'd never liked me. Only ever hung around 'cause of Sam. And when he'd chosen Emily she'd slowly started avoiding us. All of us.

"Leave me alone, Leah."

She snorted, punching my shoulder. God, she annoyed me.

"Oh, get over yourself, Jacob. Whatever it is I bet you'll be over it by tomorrow."

Something snapped. It was hard to pretend I wasn't about to kill her.

"GO. AWAY."

"Oh come _on,_" she socked me in the arm again, leaning back against the log, "What's wrong with you, anyway?

Any other day I might've joked around and nudged her back, rolling my eyes. But I couldn't do this. Not today.

"I already told you it's none of your business!"

A crow squawked noisily overhead as the sound of my voice ricocheted off the rocks, echoing more loudly than I'd anticipated. Leah's eyes widened momentarily—I'd said it a little louder than necessary. Sure, I felt bad. But she'd asked for it.

"Whatever crap it is, you're just gonna feel worse if you sit here and dwell on it. Might as well tell me," she said quietly, "Nothing shocks me anymore."

"This would," my voice trembled as I clenched a fistful of sand in my hand. "Trust me."

"Try me, Jacob."

Oh, just great. Not only did I completely set myself up for this, but I could already feel the words about to come out my mouth. They were unstoppable.

_Don't say it_, I cursed myself, but it was too late. "Bella's pregnant."

The words were jumbled, but from the look on Leah's face, I could tell she'd understood.

"_Bella_?" she whispered, raising an eyebrow. It was sinking in, but I noticed she didn't look at me. She just shook her head.

"I'm—wow I'm sorry Jake," the sympathy was evident, but I was confused. "You really cared about her, didn't you?"

"I—"

"Who's the father, do you know?" she asked, kicking a stick in the sand.

Wait, what?

Words failed me, which was unusual. And I had almost forgotten. Leah had never known about Bella and I since she'd spent little to no time hanging around the pack lately. Well this made things awkward—and difficult. Sam knew, but then again he wouldn't tell anyone. Even Leah.

But I knew I was going to.

"Uh, yeah," I muttered, looking down into the sand, "I actually know him really well."

"No..." she turned to face me, "not the bloodsucker?"

Well that was convenient. Not only was I about to tell her that I had impregnated Bella, but now the damn bloodsucker was clouding my thoughts. Making my blood boil. As if this day could get any worse.

"No, actually," my words were blocking my throat off in a weird way, so that I had to swallow to keep myself from shouting or saying something completely stupid.

She waited, eyebrows rising at my every breath. But the words were stuck in my throat again.

"Actually, what?" Leah's voice was slow, careful. I could feel her eyes on my face. I prepared myself for the reaction.

"It's...me?" it came out like a question; unsure and stupid. But Leah's face remained calm.

"What?" her dark eyes searched my face but I didn't dare meet her gaze—not while my stomach was twisting in a knot. I didn't want to explain to her what it meant...I couldn't...but—

"The baby's...it's mine,"

Leah didn't move. I didn't, either. I kept my eyes on the waves, watching them hit the sand and toss small pieces of driftwood. I had to admit, this wasn't the reaction I'd been hoping for. Why couldn't people react like they did in the movies? Not act all quiet and leave me in the silence.

"Well," her voice came out surprisingly, upset. There was an amount of control to it, but I could hear the shakiness beneath. "That changes things a bit."

Her short hair floated around her face as the wind played with it, and I could see she'd turned towards the wind, away from me.

"Yeah, it—" I took a deep breath, sighing, "yeah."

Sometimes I wished I wasn't so easy to find. Sitting here with Leah only made the situation weirder.

But there was nothing else I could say. I leaned back again, closing my eyes as I thought of Bella's bad jokes, sucking in a deep breath at the way she giggled to herself. Would I hear those awful jokes again? Would she ever laugh for the same reasons? Or was it gone?

It wasn't easy to think about. I didn't want to imagine the emptiness.

But it was already pervading my mind—the images were crystal clear. Bella walking away. _Again_. Never turning back. I had to stop it. I would make myself sick.

I tried to focus on the sound of the wind—anything else but the images.

Leah. I'd almost forgotten she was there, head still turned away.

"Leah?" my voice sounded hoarse as I turned to face her. She was quiet before she turned her head.

Her raven-black hair fell across her eyes before she brushed it back.

I paused. Her eyes were puffy—tears still stained her cheeks. She'd been crying.

"What?" she spat, staring at the ground. I shook my head.

"What's—are you okay?"

"Just great."

Sarcasm, naturally. But that was Leah.

"Since when do _you_ mope?" I socked her lightly in the arm, mocking her words earlier. But she didn't budge. Something was really, really wrong.

When I thought about it, it really _was_ weird. I'd never seen Leah cry before. Even when Sam had gone with Emily...she'd never let us see her when she started to get all choked up. I guess she didn't want Sam to see her, mostly. But still. Usually she'd be to full of herself to let any of us see her crack. Even me. But with her here, now...I didn't know what to do.

"Uh, okay," I muttered, glancing sideways at her puckered face, "That wasn't funny, was it..."

She was still, her breathing heavy.

"No, not really."

Well, she was honest at least. I waited a few minutes before speaking.

"You know you can tell me what it is, right?" I sighed, running my hand over the smooth rocks. She laughed bitterly.

"You don't want to know," she was trying to be harsh but it came out shakily, "Trust me."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Try me. Ever heard that before?"

"Stop stealing my one-liners, Jacob," she sniffed, wiping her eyes on her grey sweatshirt sleeve. Ugh. I hated seeing girls cry. It always made me feel horrible.

"Fine, how about this," I said, chucking a small rock into the waves, watching with satisfaction as it went too far to see it land, "I won't make you tell me. But," I added, grinning, "I'll start singing Thriller at the top of my lungs until you do."

Leah made a face, shaking her head. "You are such an idiot."

Well, I knew that.

"Yeah, and my singing is complete _crap_," I raised my eyebrow, "So what will it be?"

She thought for a minute, wiping the last of the tears on her sleeve again.

"Well your voice _does_ suck, I'll admit that," she mumbled, sniffling again, "But I think I could handle it."

She was being difficult as usual. Girls, I guess. They couldn't just give it to you straight.

"Leah, come—"

"Look it's never going to happen, anyway, alright?" She turned to face me, tears gathering in her eyes again, though her face was twisted in an angry way. "I might as well just give up on you."

She froze; I froze. I could tell she hadn't meant to say what she'd just said.

"What?" my voice was barely there. I swallowed, inhaling to make sure I was still breathing.

Her eyes were wide.

"Nothing."

But we both knew what'd she'd said.

"Leah..." I didn't blink, didn't move.

"I told you, Jake. You shouldn't have asked." she wiped her eyes again, getting up. I just stared.

"Whoa—Leah, I—you _like_ me?" I could barely say it. It just sounded wrong.

She frowned, grabbing her backpack. I hadn't even seen her bring it.

"This day never happened, you got that?" her words like ice, "So stupid..." she muttered, walking quickly away, "So freaking _stupid_."

I sat there, completely stunned. She'd never paid attention to me. _Never_. And if she did, it was negative attention, always telling me I smelled like leech, or telling me my haircut made me look like a wannabe 80's porn star.

But now _this?_ Since when had Leah given a crap about me? Was this some sick joke? I contemplated the possibility that she was just pulling a weird, messed-up prank. But I highly doubted she'd risk her dignity for something juvenile like that. Maybe, for once, she was telling the truth. Maybe Leah Clearwater really did like me.

Could my life get any weirder?

Don't answer that.


	7. Over and Out

My stomach was churning, again, making it hard for me to stand. It felt sort of like the flu, except there were sharp pangs at my side that made me momentarily nauseous. A thought suddenly came to mind. How long had it been since—it happened? I squinted, trying to remember the exact day. March came to mind—I remembered it was close to Saint Patrick's Day. And there had been no school the next day, which had been Monday...so it was a Sunday night in March. It would seem weird to look at my calendar. But I knew that I should.

It was the weekend of Friday the 13th in March—I cringed with the dark humor. How ironic. So it had been March 15th. That's the day it had all started. And today was May 24th.

But instead, I thought of December. That was nine months from March; seven months from May. Would that be when...

I shuddered, holding my stomach. Seven months. Seven short months. I had to keep it together—I couldn't fall to my knees and start screaming—Charlie was asleep. The whole town was asleep. Even Jacob was probably passed out on his too-small bed, the blankets on the floor. It always ended this way. I was the one who needed everyone, even when I knew deep down that no one could fix me. Even Jacob, who would always come closest to putting me together, would never find the final pieces. Because I was permanently broken. And it was my own fault every time.

* * *

_March fifteenth_, I turned the two words over in my head again and again until they sounded meaningless, like a jumble of sounds. I wondered if Bella remembered the exact day, too. I sighed, kicking off the sheets so they landed on the floor. It was too hot, anyway.

Alright, so it was May. May twenty-something. That meant she was two months—I paused, mentally, trying to think of the term—two months, impregnated? Silently, I cringed. No, that wasn't the word. Two months with child? I hated that, though. _With child_ sounded so...I don't know. Weird. Whatever it was, she was two months into the whole—I felt my breath quicken—pregnancy thing. And usually it was a nine-month cycle, that much I knew. So we had time. Seven months, if you wanted to be all mathematical, which I didn't, because numbers hurt. And ever since I'd met Bella they'd been weighing me down. Our age difference, for one thing. I was 16, she was 18. Not that it mattered to me but to _her_ it was significant. And then there was her graduation in...well, less than a month. I'd been trying to push that one to the side for awhile now, but I knew it was going to resurface soon enough. Then there was _this._ These seven months of this one, continual nightmare. Welcome to my life.

But it _was _my life, and I knew that pretending it was going to disappear was stupid. Not only that, but it would hurt Bella, and I loved her. I knew that because the thought of running away from it made me sick. It was too like something the bloodsucker would do. And the thought of her body shaking in that awful way it had when _he _left, except it being because of me, was enough to keep me cemented here. I was staying. Nothing could move me.

* * *

"Because we have to, Jake," my voice was small, and I clutched the phone until my knuckles turned white. I was surprised the phone didn't have a dent in it when I looked.

"Today...would be bad," Jacob's husky voice came over the receiver and I could hear the concern—it was all too obvious. This had been the moment I'd been dreading. Planning on how to tell Charlie. It was inevitable that he'd find out, and I would be grounded until I died, or at least until he died. But I wasn't afraid of the grounding. I was more concerned about Jacob's life and the fact that Charlie owned a gun—and a license.

"Yes," I agreed, sucking in a deep breath, "But any day we tell Charlie would be a bad day. And the longer we wait, the worse."

There was a tangible silence on the other end, and then a crumpling of paper. I could tell Jacob was shuffling through his drawers.

"And no, Jacob," I rolled my eyes, "you're not going to write him a letter. Just—I don't know. Come over for dinner, okay?"

"I wasn't going to write a letter to Charlie," he sounded defensive, but still nervous, "I was going to write a letter to Billy, telling him good-bye one last time before your dad _kills_ me."

I groaned, turning to make sure the cruiser hadn't pulled into the driveway yet. "Charlie likes you, remember?"

"Correction, Bells," Jacob's tone had regained its natural sarcasm, "Charlie _liked_ me."

I hated to admit it, but he was right. As much as my father had favored Jacob, this was going to change everything. But I didn't let that stop me. I was determined.

"Technically he still likes you, since he doesn't know yet." I sniffed, rearranging the magnets on the fridge. Anything to keep me occupied.

Jacob snorted, "Oh, how reassuring, Bella."

I sighed, glancing at the window again.

"I'll make lasagna tonight, and tell Charlie I have some news, alright? And you," I swallowed the lump in my throat, "are going to get your butt over here around six."

"Charlie doesn't even know we're," Jacob paused, "er—together. If we are, I mean." he paused again, "Wait, are we?"

A car pulled in, and I knew Charlie was home. It was four.

"I don't—yes, we are. And Charlie just got home, so I'm going to start dinner, and you're coming over at six, right?"

Jacob sighed. "But—"

I glanced at the door, "I'll hide his gun, okay?"

Jacob groaned, "Really, Bella?"

"Six!" I hissed, slamming the phone down so hard that I had to make sure it was still functioning. Charlie pushed the door open, hanging his gun by the coat rack.

"Hey, Dad. I'm going to make lasagna—and is it alright if Jake comes over around six?" I shuffled towards the fridge, pulling out the tomato sauce and parmesan. Charlie took off his jacket, yawning.

"Fine by me," he sat down at the little table and flipped to the sports section of the newspaper that had been lying there. I mentally cursed myself. Jacob was right. Charlie probably would kill him, not that it'd be surprising. Just a really, really bad addition to the stress in my life.

"You like it with extra cheese, right?" my voice was shaky, but thankfully my father never noticed those sorts of details.

He just nodded, smiling so that the age lines showed.

I tried to ignore the growing dread that threatened to ruin my composure, and silently focused on making at least the food an enjoyable part of this night.

* * *

The lasagna was in the oven, and I had to admit that the smell made my stomach growl. I rinsed out the mixing bowl as a knock came at the door. Jacob.

I yanked the door open, glancing quickly behind my shoulder to make sure the gun was still in its place.

"I was even a little early,"

I looked up—Jacob was wearing a black dress shirt and his short crop which usually stuck out every which way had been carefully combed and maybe even gelled, so that it glinted from the light. He smiled grimly as he stepped through the door.

"What is that smell?" I stifled a cough, raising an eyebrow. Jacob rolled his eyes, untying his shoes.

"Cologne. It's some of Sam's."

He shrugged at my expression. "What? I can't play it up a little?"

I scoffed, my eyes widening as I whispered, "You're trying to impress Charlie?"

"Sure, sure," he stretched, glancing over me to make sure Charlie was glued to the TV, "Call it what you want."

"Ugh," I groaned, eyeing the stove, "Maybe you were right...we should have waited."

"Well I'm already here now," Jacob crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. I sighed.

"I know. Here, watch the lasagna while I hide the gun, okay?"

Jacob just snorted, turning towards the kitchen.

* * *

"I have to say Jake, you fix up nicely," Charlie commented through his mouthful of food, glancing at Jacob, "But we Swans aren't too formal. Don't have to get all dressed up, you know."

"Yeah," Jacob forced a smile, "I just like to make sure I look nice when I go out."

I threw him an exasperated look from across the table. He shrugged.

"Hmph," Charlie grunted, nodding, "Guess I never would've taken you for a formal guy," he took another bite out of the lasagna, "No offense."

"None taken." Jacob shook his head, glancing at me. This whole dinner had been uncomfortable, like those awkward moments you hope never happen to you, but know that at one time or another, will. I cringed as I realized I had finished my last bite, and Charlie was finishing his dinner off. Jacob, of course had already eaten four helpings and was patting his phenomenally flat stomach.

"Well," Charlie finally coughed, leaning back in his chair. "That was great, Bells."

"Sure was," Jacob agreed. I forced a smile, grabbing their plates.

"Why don't we all go sit in the living room," I suggested meekly, rinsing the dishes in the sink. Charlie looked confused.

"Hmph," he coughed, wiping his mouth on a napkin. I sighed.

"I've got some, uh, news."

My legs felt like Jell-O as I followed Charlie and Jacob into the suddenly too-small living room, and motioned for Charlie to sit on the sofa. He blinked at me, then glanced over at Jacob who sat, barely-fiiting, in the recliner. I sat on the sofa next to Charlie with hopes of making minimal eye contact.

"Okay," my voice squeaked, "So, uh,"

Charlie sniffled, and shifted on the couch so that he faced me. Jacob coughed.

"I have some news, dad," I swallowed, glancing at the carpet, "Actually, Jacob, would you like to tell him?"

"No," Jacob shook his head, "It's all yours."

I knew it was—and I also knew that if Jacob were to tell him, Charlie would somehow kill him even without the gun. He probably had a backup tucked under the couch cushions.

"Okay," I smiled again, aware of Charlie's confused expression. "Well, Jacob and I have been hanging out a lot lately, as you know," I stumbled over the words, glancing at Jacob's frozen expression. "And, you see," I inhaled sharply, "Some things have changed between us."

Charlie's eyebrows pulled together as he looked at Jacob, then back at me again.

"So, you're trying to tell me that you two are dating?" he said slowly.

"Yes,"

"No,"

Jake and I blurted simultaneously, only causing the situation to grow more awkward. Charlie grunted,

"What—"

"Well, yes," I nearly shouted, "That's part of it, but—uh, there's something else." I could see the color slowly draining out of Jacob's face.

"Hmph," Charlie grunted again, squinting, "So you guys kissed then?"

My eyes widened.

"Y-yes, but," I stammered, focusing on the freckle on my thumb. Charlie coughed.

"But what?"

I could feel myself about to hurl. I swallowed to keep it down. Somewhere I could see my life flashing before my eyes..._goodbye world_ I sighed, knowing that life as I knew it was over.

"I'm...pregnant."

* * *

It had taken me a few moments to realize my eyes were squeezed shut. I had thought the lights had been turned out—or I'd died. Either one.

I dared myself to look at Charlie, but looked at Jacob instead. The look on his face explained it all.

Charlie didn't budge—but his face was turning purple. I could see his lip begin to twitch.

"Dad, please say something," I stuttered, blinking stupidly. Charlie's face was dangerously still, except the twitching lip. I'd only seen this face once, and that had been when the car had been totaled and even then he'd looked slightly less insane.

"Jacob." my father's voice sounded like jagged knife being dragged across a chalk board. I cringed.

"Sir, I—" Jacob's formality only caused Charlie to blindly fumble for his usually holstered gun.

"DO. NOT. CALL. ME. SIR." Charlie's voice quivered. Jacob nodded, raising both hands in surrender.

"Yes, Ch—"

"GUN." Charlie hissed, glancing over at the rack, growling when he noticed it wasn't there.

"No, Dad—just—calm down!" I pleaded, throwing Jacob a knowing look. I silently cursed myself for not planning an emergency escape earlier.

"We didn't plan for this to—" Jacob tried to reason, but Charlie cut him off, rising to his feet.

"DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT ALL BOYS ARE AFTER!" Charlie's voice ricocheted off the walls, booming, "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER! MY ONLY DAUGHTER!"

He started to step towards Jacob, who, though he was at least 5 inches taller, looked terrified. I chewed my nail.

"I really," Jacob started but Charlie's eye twitched.

"JUST LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE! YOU—YOU—FILFTHY PERVERT! YOU—"

"_Dad!_" I pleaded, grabbing his sleeve, but he shrugged me off. "And YOU young lady, are GROUNDED!"

"But—"

"FOREVER! NOW WHERE IS MY GUN!" he stomped towards the rack, and I mouthed 'run' to Jacob, who had, by now, already planned on it.

"DAMMIT BELLA, WHERE IS THE RIFLE!?" he shouted, turning a darker shade of purple. Almost eggplant-esque.

I didn't bother to answer as Jacob high-tailed it and headed for the backdoor.

"YOU—" Charlie shouted after him, "ARE DEAD! GOT THAT?" his voice was near cracking with anger, "DEAD!"

* * *

"Bella," I heard Jacob's voice by my ear and felt his warm hand on my face, then I heard Charlie grumbling.

"Don't touch her," his voice was rough, but forgiving, "Please."

Jacob's hand pulled away from my cheek, and I opened my eyes, squinting at the light. Charlie's grim face came into view as he lifted me up, setting me on the couch.

"Wha?" I asked, rubbing my temple. Charlie sighed.

"You fainted, Bells. You were out a few minutes. Scared me half to death."

I searched for Jacob, who was sitting on the recliner again, his eyes on me. I bit my lip.

"Sorry," I mumbled, trying to recall if it'd all been a dream or not.

"Don't apologize, Bells," Charlie grumbled, but reached out and propped a pillow up behind me. I caught Jacob's eye, but for once, I couldn't read his expression.

"I didn't mean about fainting," I whispered, dropping my stare. Charlie froze, taking a deep breath.

"Oh," he muttered, turning to face Jacob for a slight moment. I recalled the strange dream I'd had, and was suddenly glad for this somewhat rational moment.

"Well," Charlie sighed, "I think it's too late for apologies."

I gulped—he was right.

"And Jacob," he nodded at Jacob who was slumped over the chair, "You and I are gonna talk."

Jacob nodded, "Sure, sure,"

"But first, water. I need water," Charlie's face was covered in perspiration as he rose up and headed for the kitchen. I rubbed my temple again, trying to massage away my pounding headache. Jacob sighed.

"Dr. Rice is your doctor, right Bells?" Charlie re-entered the room, a notepad in his hand. I stared in awe.

"Um, yes,"

"Okay, well we'll er—make you an appointment then, I suppose," he nodded, heading back towards the living room. Admittedly, Charlie was reacting differently than I'd anticipated. Better.

"I know I seem—" Charlie paused, sitting back on the sofa, "Calmer than usual." he leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. "And I _am_ angry. Don't get me wrong. But given the circumstance," he glanced at Jacob, then at my stomach, and his face softened so that his eyes looked suddenly sad. I swallowed the guilt.

"Given the circumstance I think you need your Dad right now, not some grumbling lunatic," his mouth hinted at a smile but it faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling the tears welling up, but I blinked them away. Charlie kissed my forehead, sighing loudly as he motioned for Jacob to follow him.

"Outside, Jake. We need to talk."


	8. Grow Up

"_Handle it like a man_," I told myself, swallowing the lasagna that was threatening to come up. Last thing I needed was to puke at moment like this. The way out the door was fuzzy and slow-motion like a dream that you hope you never have again, where everything's spinning and blurred together. I swallowed again.

"Here, you can, er—sit," Charlie mumbled awkwardly, motioning toward the tiny bench on the white porch. I knew the bench wouldn't stand a chance if I sat on it. But I didn't dare argue—not if I wanted to live a little longer. I sat silently, wincing when the seat gave a threatening creak. _Dammit, don't break._ I shoved my hands in my pockets. _Here goes._

"It would've been nice," he shifted his weight and sighed again, "to know you two were together."

The wind picked up and blew through the trees, making me shiver. Even though I wasn't cold. He was looking at me, I could tell. Intensely; studying my face, my clenched fists. But not in a threatening way. Charlie wasn't threatening. But he wasn't happy, either.

I swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"You're a good kid, Jacob."

I didn't say anything. I was waiting for the _but_.

"But," he started and I stared at the floor, "Bella is my daughter, and this is going to be…" he stopped, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in a deep breath. _Oh god, please don't cry,_ I begged. I couldn't handle when grown men cried. Or anyone, for that matter. I'd watched my dad from behind my bedroom door for the last six years, his huge, rough hands on his face covering his face. He was afraid to cry in front of my sisters and me; always trying to keep up the tough exterior. But by the time Rachel and Rebecca had left for college, gotten married, he'd let down the guard a little. I saw him crumble.

"This," his mouth shook but he was trying to stay calm, "This is going to really be hard on everyone. Especially her."

I nodded numbly.

"And I'm disappointed with both of you," he stared at the space just above my head, concentrating on it intently. Here came the confrontation. "But especially you, Jacob. You were supposed to be the one who put her back together."

Here I was again. Messing everything up.

Okay, so the worst part of my life was over. At least the worst part of my life so far. Charlie knew, my dad knew, and I was bullet-free. Even if I wished I was dead.

I turned over in my tiny bed, wiping the sweat off my forehead. The sheets were practically sticking to me; not like I cared, but I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. I needed space to think about what had actually happened tonight.

I'd agreed to a list of things, for one—not even bothering to comprehend what Charlie was actually listing off. Just extra duties. I shifted my weight, switching off my green lamp, turning over in bed. So there were the…well, the first appointments with Bella's doctor. Charlie wanted to take her to the first few alone. But after that it was up to me to show up for support. What were they going to do to her, even? I'd seen a weird special on babies once, when Rachel had fallen asleep watching the Discovery channel, but I didn't know much past the ultrasound deal. Maybe they'd give her some vitamins, or something.

I rolled over again. God it was hot in here—too stuffy to breathe. I unbuttoned my denim shorts, throwing them off the bed. My dad was probably asleep. He went to bed early these days. It usually left me time to do whatever homework I'd put off (if I felt like doing it) or to watch TV when _Monster Garage_ was on. But it was summer, now. It wasn't as easy to find stuff to fill up the empty space. Especially when there was lots to think about. My mind wandered back to Bella and the –the yeah. The baby. I imagined her holding it, crying because she was happy, getting all emotional like girls usually do. Except the image wasn't making me emotional or all warm inside. Instead I felt something deep in my stomach, like a growing pit of I-don't-know-what. All I knew was that I was responsible for all the pain Bella was going to go through; _was_ going through. Her life was never going to be the same.

Then my mind wandered to a place in my mind I'd been trying to avoid. My mom.

_What would she say?_

She'd died in a goddamn car wreck ten years ago. Stupid drunk driver didn't even care that he took away my mom and left my dad a cripple. My sisters had to take care of me 'til they moved out, five years ago and even then it wasn't the same as my mom had been. She'd collect seashells and make picture frames for fun and tell me all the legends I'd thought were real, then. I glanced over at my nightstand—the picture frame was still there even if it was a little dusty. All of us. Just a picture.

And now I got a girl pregnant. Screwed her life up completely.

_I'm sorry, Mom._

"So you're about three months along, then?" Dr. Rice examined my stomach, eyeing her clipboard. I nodded silently. I hadn't been here since the motor cycle accident a few months back.

"Alright, Isabella. Let's have a look at how things are going." She motioned for me to lay back, lifting my shirt. Part of me couldn't believe I was here, and the other part _wished_ I wasn't here. Couldn't doctors at least be a little less personal?

She spread a cold, clear jelly on my stomach—which hardly looked pregnant—and ran a small instrument back and forth, staring at the small screen above the bed. My mind guiltily wandered to Charlie, who had looked uncomfortable out in the waiting room, pretending to be interested in a diet magazine while I reassured him I wanted to go alone the first time. He cleared his throat and nodded, watching me make my way to the nurse who called my name.

Dr. Rice spent a few more minutes rubbing my stomach until she began to smile, nodding her head. "Right on schedule, Isabella. Your baby's on the screen if you want to see it."

I swallowed, staring at the pattern on her scrubs. I knew if I looked at that screen it would change everything. Whatever I had left for—for _him_—would become an anchor, dragging me down in my sea of masochistic regret. There would be no possibility that things would return to the way they were. Jake and I would be together, and for all intensive purposes, irreversibly. Ed—_he _ would never come back. Not even in my dreams. It would be over.

"Bella?"

I turned my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. _This is the moment you accept what you have to_.

"Your baby is on the screen," she said again, her eyes were soft with understanding. I took a deep breath, blinking back the tears that were forming under my lids, threatening to spill out. _Lift the anchor._

I nodded numbly, looking up toward the blue screen. It was all a blur. A beautiful blur, mixed with the tears that I could feel running down my cheeks, warm and hot. And then I saw clearly. Something there, on that screen, belonged to me. I couldn't interpret my feelings, but I could feel my face burn.

"Oh," I whispered.

"There's hands and feet, the whole deal," she smiled.

I stared. I couldn't see anything but I knew it was there, somewhere in the blur. "Wow," I breathed.

"Do you want to bring your Dad in?" she raised her eyebrows, signing a few papers on the clipboard. I shook my head. I didn't think Charlie would be able to keep it together, and I couldn't watch him crumble anymore.

"Maybe next time."


End file.
